


Just Above Sea Level

by autumnchills



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Buck Centric, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Tsunami (9-1-1), Pre-Relationship, Sharing Clothes, buddie but not quite yet sorry, kind of, these tags are not in order of appearance, we are ignoring a lot of canon in this bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-06 21:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnchills/pseuds/autumnchills
Summary: Up until now, Buck never understood what it meant to have a bad day. Sure, there were times when something didn’t happen the way it should’ve or days where his parents argued with each other or with him, but there were never Bad Days. There were only bad things that happened.He wonders if this is what a Bad Day feels like.—Buck has a bad day, and his friends help him with that.





	Just Above Sea Level

**Author's Note:**

> This fic really started as more of a projection of my own feelings this last week onto Buck, and it wasn't until a friend asked if I was dissociating that I went with that storyline for this. I am aware that dissociative episodes are different for many people and range in severity, so if this aint how you experience it, please don't tell me I'm wrong. I am open to other criticisms, though. Hope y'all enjoy!

Up until now, Buck never understood what it meant to have a bad day. Sure, there were times when something didn’t happen the way it should’ve or days where his parents argued with each other or with him, but there were never Bad Days. There were only bad things that happened. 

He wonders if this is what a Bad Day feels like. 

It’s not even 8:00 when Buck wakes up. He needs to leave within thirty minutes if he wants to make it to his shift on time, and usually, that’s not a problem, but today he stands up and promptly stares down into his apartment wondering why he can’t will himself to move. 

The feeling disappears on his way to work, and he doesn’t question it.

—

It happens again the next week. 

He wakes up and stares at his hanging clothes. Buck’s never had a hard time choosing what to wear, but right now, every shirt feels like the wrong one. Eventually, he pushes the closet door closed before turning to his small desk. His LAFD shirt is lying there, already worn once this week. 

He puts it on and wonders if part of him knew not to put it in the laundry so he could have it for this moment. It seems silly to worry about what to wear when he’s just going to be putting his actual uniform on later.

It’s already fifteen after eight by the time he’s dressed, but he hasn’t had the chance to do much else. He thinks of breakfast, and that alone is enough to sound like too much effort to give. 

He eyes his phone for a moment, then picks it up to text Eddie. 

**  
** _ give me one reason not to call in sick _

**8:16 AM**

_ are you actually sick? _

**Eddie - 8:16 AM** ****  


_ No _

**8:17 AM**  


_ there’s your reason _

**Eddie - 8:20 AM**  


He hates it, but it’s a good point. Not to mention that it would probably be a hassle for Cap to switch up the teams last minute to balance it out.

He finishes getting ready and even manages a protein shake with a couple of minutes to spare. He’s halfway out the door when he turns back toward his apartment and wonders again if he should just stay home. 

Every fiber in his body is begging him to, but without a logical reason, he steps through the door and locks it behind him. 

—

What’s most annoying is that everything seems fine. Not a single thing is amiss. Everyone is laughing or smiling. Bobby’s brought in cookies that he baked with Athena and the kids. The only thing out of the norm for starting a shift is the look Eddie gives him when he first sees him. He’s looking for something, but Buck sure as hell doesn’t have an answer for whatever he’s feeling, so he looks away and joins the rest of the team. 

Buck isn’t sure what he thought would happen. He supposes that when he started moving with the flow of everyone else’s energy that his body might catch up. Instead, he feels like every movement is slowed by an invisible weight. Every movement is heavier and slower than the last like he’s wading through thigh-high water and slowing moving into deeper waters.

When someone— he doesn’t even pay enough attention to catch who— makes a joke, his brain registers it as funny, but it’s like the act of laughing takes too much effort. He smiles and nods, instead, letting the rest of the people around him cover his silence with their own laughter. It all sounds muffled, but he doesn’t bother to worry about it.

—

When the bells first rang out through the station for the first call of this shift, he’s pretty sure the only reason he’d moved was because of muscle memory and trained response. He’d spent the first part of the ride in silence, as if he was suspended in time, suspended outside of himself. 

When they get there, they’re working on limited information. A guy called in and said his friend had fallen in the pool and that he pulled him out, but he wasn’t breathing. 

They make their way to the backyard, where the dispatcher said the help was needed. They find their guy, sure enough, lying on the edge of a large pool, but there’s no one else. 

Buck starts chest compressions at Cap’s orders, and Hen readies to bag him. Apparently, it doesn’t take much because he’s coughing up water within a few seconds. In the midst of the man’s coughing, Buck realizes there’s an open gash on the forehead and moves toward his medical bag near the guy’s feet to grab gauze. 

“Oh, thank God!” The team collectively turns and finds a kid, probably not even eighteen yet, and he’s got tear streaks down his face and a red mark on his jaw, like a fresh punch was landed there not long ago. 

“I wasn’t trying to kill him!” the kid cries out. 

Bobby stands then, approaching the kid. “What do you mean?” he questions. 

They don’t get an answer to that before the guy on the ground starts thrashing around.

“Let me go!” the man yells wildly. He shoves at Hen— and from her knees, all she does is fall back— but it’s enough for Chim and Eddie to jump into action and latch onto his shoulders and hold him down. He starts thrashing his legs next, so Buck moves to grab them, but he’s not fast enough. Buck’s only got a tentative grip on the guy’s left foot when he pulls his right leg up to his chest and extends with a hard kick, landing on the side of Buck’s face. 

The force vibrates his skull as his head snaps backward. A part of him thinks, _ man this sucks,_ as he waits to hit the ground, but then he keeps falling and realizes a second too late that the pool is right behind him. 

The last thing he hears is his name before the water welcomes him.

After that, it’s all flashes. 

His arms wave around in the water, trying to get himself up, but for a terrifying moment, he can’t remember which way that is.

Hands grasp his arms, and he comes up gasping for air that he couldn’t take in before he went under.

The next thing he knows, he’s on warm cement— it doesn’t make sense. He and Christopher were on the pier.

“Christopher?” he asks before his brain can catch up with the present. He hears someone talking, but all he can focus on is Christopher. He can’t believe he lost him.

Out of the corner of his vision, he sees Eddie, and the guilt slams through him harder than the tsunami did. 

He clutches to the arm wrapped around his chest, probably the only thing keeping him sitting up, and cries. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “Eddie, I’m so sorry.” Said man looks at him with confusion.

“What’s he saying?” Eddie asks— but not to him, to someone near him.

His heavy breaths become far too frequent then, and he absentmindedly realizes that he’s hyperventilating. Part of his brain is saying he should do something about it, but the fear is taking over, and he doesn’t have the energy to fight it.

He welcomes the darkness this time.

—

Buck is sitting in the backseat of their truck when he comes back to himself. He feels like he’s snapping back into his body from a different reality, and he’s not even sure if he was ever asleep. He just feels like he’s come to consciousness.

“Are you with us again?” Buck follows the voice to Eddie. He’s right next to him, shoulder pressed against his own and— oh, that’s a shock blanket. "You've been staring at nothing for a hot minute."

He can’t seem to form words just yet, so he nods and watches some of the tension leave Eddie’s body.

He can’t help but feel like this is the first time all day that he doesn’t feel like he’s talking to everyone through glass walls. 

“You had us worried there, man.” Buck just nods again, hoping that Eddie can understand what he means. “Where’d you go?”

“I—” his voice is raspy when he first tries to speak. “I didn’t realize I’d gone anywhere.” Eddie’s eyes do the same thing they had that morning, but Buck ignores it, having spotted the police cars outside the window.

“You had a panic attack,” Eddie supplies. “What caused that, man?”

“I don’t have a concussion, do I?” Buck asks instead. “Like— that shit back there was really confusing and didn’t make sense, right?”

Eddie notes the deflection but doesn’t call his friend out on it. “Nah, man. You’re all good. We can explain the crazy later. Long story short, some dude tried to break in and that wasn’t actually the kid’s friend.” Buck nods again, and Eddie looks for something else to say to fill the silence. “You got a nice shoe print on your face.” Buck’s hand twitches to touch it but realizes it’s peeking out from under the blanket and latched on to Eddie’s wrist.

He pulls it away quick like he’s been burned. The memories of what was likely less than thirty minutes ago come rushing back. Eddie doesn’t tease him over his reaction. In fact, the man reaches for the same hand Buck just took away and holds it between both of his own. 

“You wouldn’t let go of me once I got close to you. You kept apologizing, but Bobby and Hen couldn’t catch on to what you were apologizing for.” 

Buck nods. “Yeah, I remember now.” He pointedly doesn’t look at their hands. “I guess I was back at the pier.” Eddie still looks confused, so he elaborates. “That’s where I went. When I went into the pool, I knew it was the pool, but my mind told me I was being crushed by that wave.” Buck feels Eddie’s fingers twitch. “When I came up, I was looking for Christopher.” 

“Is that where your head’s been all day?” 

Buck just shrugs. “I didn’t think so. I remember being here all day, and I didn’t think I was ever anywhere else, but I definitely felt detached. I felt like I was moving on muscle memory alone, and like I was only acting how I knew I should be.” Eddie frowns and Buck shakes the hand he’s holding. “What is it?” he presses. 

Eddie shakes his head. “You know where you are now, though?”

“I’m with you in the back of a fire truck,” is Buck’s response.

“Alright,” Eddie laughs. “Try to stay here, though.”

The ride back to the station is a little awkward. He doesn’t have a concussion, but his head still aches and his face throbs.

“It’s a little swollen.” That’s Chimney's professional opinion, and the man just hands him a cold compress for his face. “Just hold it there ‘til we’re back at the house.” 

Buck nods and relaxes into his seat. No one questions him about what happened, but he can see them all wanting to ask. 

He wonders if they notice that he and Eddie haven’t let go of each other’s hands. 

—

Back at the station is a different story. Buck has never felt more like a lost puppy, and it must be pretty clear because Bobby calls out to Eddie and has the man take him to the locker room, and Hen and Chimney take over his post-call duties without being asked. 

“Do you realize you don’t have any spare clothes?” Eddie’s shifting through Buck’s locker, looking for dry clothes. 

“No,” he says softly. “I don’t really like my clothes this week.” He doesn’t mean to say it out loud, doesn’t even know where it came from, and the absurdity of the statement has Eddie completely freezing in his movements. 

“What do you mean?” Eddie questions.

Buck shrugs his shoulders. “Hell if I know.” Annoyance flickers across Eddie’s face before he turns away from the locker. 

The man moves to his own locker and rifles through some stuff before tossing a wad of clothing at Buck. Buck surprises himself by catching it, so much more aware than he was earlier today. 

He looks down at the clothes and finds a plain grey t-shirt and some black sweats.

“Change then meet us upstairs.”

The atmosphere of the room is completely different than before they left. The temperature outside is easily above eighty degrees, but Buck feels cold. He grows uncomfortable under the gaze of his teammates and moves to the couch, not quite having the energy to talk about earlier just yet.

It’s Bobby who approaches him first. He sits beside him on the couch and leans on his knees, not unlike his own father did once upon a time. The key difference is that this time, it’s not his father who’s disappointed in him, it’s his captain, the same captain who told Buck that he wasn’t ready to come back.

Buck keeps his eyes trained on his own hands.

“You remember when I fell off the wagon last year,” is what Bobby opens with. It’s not a question because the two had just been reminded of it in unpleasant circumstances a few weeks prior. 

“I was talking to Eddie just now,” the captain continues. “He mentioned some things to me that—”

“I get it,” Buck finally finds his voice, “I wasn’t ready to come back.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “this isn’t about that.”  
  
“Then what is it about?”

“Have you ever dissociated before?” 

The question takes Buck by surprise. “Isn’t that a disorder?”

“Well, it can be. But anyone can go through one from time to time, under the right circumstances, or sometimes for no specific triggering reason. How intense they are ranges, too.” Bobby lets the words sink in. “Before I drank that night, I had an episode. It practically started the second I saw that mom and her child rolled away on a gurney. It reminded me of my own family. It felt great to save them, but made me wonder why I couldn’t save my own wife and children.”

“I didn’t know that,” Buck says. “The dissociation thing.” 

Bobby tilts his head toward Buck. “I’m no expert, but I think what you felt today was close enough to an episode that it worries me, so I need you to make a promise to me.”

“Anything.”  
  
“The next time you feel like this, tell one of us. You may be feeling like you’re okay because there’s this weird sense of detachment from emotions that usually cloud our vision, but you’re actually in one of your most vulnerable mindsets like that.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. “I can do that.”

“Do you know what might have set this off?” Bobby asks then. 

Buck’s mood falls again. “I think it was a dream I had.” 

“And what happened in it?” 

“I never—” Buck’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I never made it to the surface of the water.”

Bobby doesn’t need to ask what he means. Buck never talked to them about the tsunami, but they knew he didn’t come out unscathed. They all remember when they first realized Buck had been in that chaos, but they all knew he’d suffered in it when the kid collapsed after seeing Christopher in Eddie’s arms. 

“But you did, Buck. You did more than make it back to the surface. You saved Christopher, and you saved others, too.” Bobby pulls Buck into a hug then. “You're going to be okay, kid.” 

The words take Buck’s breath away, and he lets his friend hold him, and he feels like he’s finally on dry land. 

**Author's Note:**

> Special Thanks to my beta reader: [AngelSweeney13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelSweeney13/pseuds/AngelSweeney13)
> 
> Another thank you to all my friends in the 9-1-1 Discord who helped me get through this week.
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos, as they always encourage me to write more! If you feel I missed some necessary tags, please let me know what it is I should add.


End file.
